


Reflections

by theatreobsessed



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Emotional, Evan Hansen - Freeform, F/M, Fighting, Heidi Hansen - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Zoe Murphy - Freeform, alana beck - Freeform, connor Murphy - Freeform, cynthia Murphy - Freeform, jared Kleinman - Freeform, larry Murphy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 03:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatreobsessed/pseuds/theatreobsessed
Summary: What if we were to reflect on the most heartbreaking parts of Evan Hansen's senior year?





	Reflections

Evan Hansen wouldn’t consider himself emotionally stable.

 

In fact, he would be _lying_ if he said he was okay. For God’s sake, his “I’m fine’s.” scream “Save me.”

 

Is there anyone else who takes pills on a daily basis and constantly worries at the state of their sweaty hands? Is it normal? _What is normal?_

 

After racing into the computer lab, he plops him and his bag down at the nearest computer he can find. His shoulder hurts. Everything fucking _hurts_ . The cruel, true words of the other boy haunt him to no end. ‘ _I’m not the freak, you’re the fucking FREAK.’_ It’s a sad reality, but it’s true.

 

So, horribly true.

 

Evan attempts to relax his shuddering shoulders and the butterflies that seem to live in his stomach.

 

“Dear Evan Hansen,

Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be?

I know, because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know, and doesn’t know me. Maybe if I could just talk to her. Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different.

I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?

Sincerely,

Your most best, and dearest friend, Me”

 

His cursor hovers over the ‘Print’ button. He rereads his letter to proof it of errors.

 

Is this how senior year should be? If you can ask anyone, _anyone,_ they would probably say high school were best years of their lives. How? _How?_ Memories flooded with unsuspecting panic and anxiety attacks come back, and fills his ocean blue eyes with tears. That stupid speech in English class, the one about Daisy Buchanan, left him stuttering in front of the class, which ultimately earned him a 75%. The _constant_ all-nighters from demanding teachers makes him consider taking more than his dosage of antidepressants. And that one stupid, _fucking_ thought that lingers in his mind after he let go.

 

_I SHOULD HAVE CLIMBED HIGHER._

 

The creaks of the door opening snap Evan out of his dangerous thoughts. Connor Murphy. It’s too late. The button is hit.

 

~N O W  P R I N T I N G~

 

Connor clears his throat. To Evan, it’s a bullet being shot.

 

“So, um, what happened to your arm?” He gestures to the cast on Evan’s arm.

 

Evan’s hands begin to sweat, he picks at the callouses on his palm. “I, um, fell out of a tree.” Could that stutter _be_ any worse?

 

“You fell out a tree. Well, that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Oh my gosh,” Connor attempts to lighten to mood with a soft smile. Evan tenses up. _Does he know?_

 

“Yeah, I know.” He finishes, expecting- _hoping_ Connor would turn around and walk out. He isn’t finished.

 

“No one's, ah, signed your cast.” Evan looks down wearily once again. Blank.

 

Each name on a cast is how many people Evan think cares about him. There are none. “I know.” _Silence._ “I’ll sign it.”

 

_evan.exe has stopped working. Care to restart?_

 

“You, uh, don’t really have to.” Evan tries to shell himself in an imaginary corner. Connor, being Connor, doesn’t take no for an answer. “You, have a sharpie?”

 

Evan surrenders the sharpie. He knows his hands are a faucet of sweat. Connor, takes the sheet of paper from his hand and puts it under his arm. _Wait. Paper? Was he holding it when he walked in?_ Conner tugs rather harshly at Evan’s bound arm. "Ow." Connor gives Evan some what of a reassuring look. Then, he is finished with his masterpiece.

 

C O N N O R.

 

In big, huge letters.

 

“Oh, great, thanks…” Evan trails off to admire the newfound signature.

 

“There, now we can both pretend we have friends.” He finishes.

Silence once again. Connor relaxes, Evan begins to walk away at a quick pace. Too quick, if you were to ask. He is caught. “Is this yours?” Connor holds up a letter. _His letter._ “I found it on the printer.” _Damn that printer._ “Dear Evan Hansen, that’s your name, right?”

 

Feeling bombarded with questions, Evan rushes out his nervous, anxious response. “Uh, no, it’s just this stupid- paper I had to write-.” Evan lunges at the paper. It’s too late. Too damn late. He’s reading.

 

_HE’S READING IT._

 

Evan begins to brace himself. He prays to any god out there, hoping that being pushed earlier was just the height of all things. “Itwasjustanassignment.” He says it fast. Too fast. Evan doesn’t understand that for a person who rushes their words and stutter, they’re always too _goddamn_ late.

 

“‘Because there’s Zoe.’ Is this about my sister?” Connor is interrogating him. For a “psychopath,” he really does care about Zoe.

 

 _Crap._ “No, no. I-.” Evan is cut off. “You knew I was coming into this computer lab, so you decided to write some creepy shit about my sister because you _knew_ I would freak out! Right?! And you can tell everyone that I’m crazy! Right?!” Evan’s dug himself too deep. There’s no turning back. Connor runs out of the room. “Fuck you!”

 

Evan starts to vomit an explanation. There’s no coherent sentences. Everything comes out in one breath. He starts to panic. He goes after Connor, who has already begin to round to corner. “No! Connor, please, give it back. I need it-it’s for therapy- I need that back. Please, _just give it back!.”_ Evan is yelling after Connor. His voice, or what’s left of it, gets reduced to a sob. It’s a lost cause. Once again, too _fucking_ late.

 

Evan collapses in the hallway. He can’t stop the tears. No one can. His breaths come out in shallow breaths. _Who panics like this?_ His mind is swirling. Slipping down the drain. Rowing right up shit’s creek. His shirt is stained with tears, bringing awful memories of junior year. Evan has lost control. He’s a power unto himself.  God, is there even a point? Soon, everything falls dizzy to Evan. _This has to be the worse one yet._ His brain feels like scrambled eggs.

 

It’s a real shame he had no one to hold onto.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this one! The next one will be about Heidi confronting Evan about knowing Connor. As always, please leave a comment on how I did, and look to the next one!


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